


all lit up

by rooonil_waazlib



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Drunk Sex, M/M, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooonil_waazlib/pseuds/rooonil_waazlib
Summary: “When did you get home?” Steve asked, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to Bucky, throwing a leg over him and settling in his lap, ungainly like a baby deer. He pressed a wet kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Bucky’s mouth and sat back to pet at his stubble. “Why didn’t you text me? You could have come and joined us. Thor brought the good stuff.”





	all lit up

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [All Lit Up 閃耀永恆](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999590) by [carolchang829](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolchang829/pseuds/carolchang829)



> look i just felt like writing sloppy drunk steve? #yolo or w/e

He heard Steve come in; looked up from his book and listened as two shoes thumped to the floor, a soft scrape as Steve’s body slid along the drywall, his footsteps as he came toward the bedroom.

They lived in a small place—not as small as where they’d lived in 1936, where there wasn’t space for both of them to inhale at the same time—but it was only eight or ten steps from the front door to the bedroom. Bucky put aside his book and waited.

Steve was squinting at his phone, holding it absurdly close to his face as he pushed open the door. He’d been out for drinks with the Avengers, Bucky knew—Bucky himself just home from a mission, preferring to have a shower and a quiet night rather than shots with Thor, who liked to sing at the top of his voice when he’d been drinking—and in one glance Bucky knew Steve was soused, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his skin flushed a little.

“No, fuck  _you_ , Apple.  _You’re_  a whore,” Steve muttered, so intent on his phone he hadn’t seen Bucky sitting in their bed. “I-space-A-M-space-H-O-M-E-space-S-A-F-E.”

Bucky bit his lip, trying not to laugh, waiting for Steve to notice him. The man had the self-preservation instincts of a four-year-old being offered candy. Bucky hadn’t been secretive about the fact that he was home; he’d left his go bag and his boots by the door and he’d turned on the lamp on his side of the bed, for God’s sake.

But Steve didn’t look up, still standing with one hand on the doorknob, glaring at his phone as it pinged. His face softened into a grin. “Yeah, yeah, Wilson, at least I’m not a bird man,” he mumbled, but he didn’t type anything, just stuffed his phone into his pocket and finally looked up. “Bucky!”

“Hey,” Bucky said, smiling as Steve’s grin went huge and excited.

“When did you get home?” Steve asked, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to Bucky, throwing a leg over him and settling in his lap, ungainly like a baby deer. He pressed a wet kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Bucky’s mouth and sat back to pet at his stubble. “Why didn’t you text me? You could have come and joined us. Thor brought the good stuff.”

“I can tell.” Bucky rubbed his thumb over the patch of skin on the inside of Steve’s elbow. He was warm, even warmer than usual, a result of Thor’s best mead, his face pink, eyes bright. There was glitter, a lot of it, trailing down his neck from his left ear, vanishing under the collar of his v-neck. He shuffled a little closer over Bucky’s legs and leaned in again, slower, slow enough that his lips actually made contact with Bucky’s this time.

The back of Steve’s neck was sticky with sweat, his hands searing on Bucky’s face and shoulder where he was holding onto him. He wiggled a little, trying to get closer, and Bucky turned his face so he could bite at his collarbone over his shirt.

He smelled like—something. Like someone else, Bucky thought, dizzy with how warm Steve was, how pliable and enthusiastic in his lap. But he smelled like someone else, not Sam or Natasha or Thor. Bucky stuck his face in Steve’s neck—the right side, where there was less glitter—and sniffed.

Steve squirmed and giggled. “That tickles,” he said into Bucky’s hair, “Buck! Bucky, quit it, that tickles.”

“Who’s been touching you?” Bucky asked. It wasn’t that he cared...it was just that. Well. It was just that he cared. A little. Not because he thought Steve might allow anything to happen with someone else—he knew he wouldn’t, knew as deeply as he knew his own name, probably deeper these days—but he just...wanted to be the only person who got to touch Steve. That was all.

But Steve didn’t need to know that. Bucky was just—curious. Just wondering.

“Hmm?” Steve asked, dreamy, slow again now that he wasn’t being tickled. “Touching me? Just you.”

Bucky sat back to look at him. Steve blinked at him, fuzzy, not evading the question, just too drunk to understand it. “Did you dance with somebody?”

“No,” Steve said, immediately, his eyebrows knitting and then smoothing. “Oh. Wait, yeah.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve shrugged a shoulder and rubbed his hand over the seam where Bucky’s metal arm met flesh. “This nice lady offered to teach me how to twerk,” he said, a little defensive about it, pouting. “She said I was doing it wrong.”

Bucky sniggered. “And did she fix your form?”

“Yes,” Steve said, “I’m a much better twerker now.”

“You’ll have to show me next time,” Bucky said.

Steve gave him a sour look, looking suddenly a little sharper, a little less drunk. “You don’t have to be jealous, you know. She was gay.”

“Did I say I was jealous?” Bucky asked, ignoring how the space under his lungs relaxed. “I’m not jealous.”

“Uh huh,” Steve agreed. But he leaned back in and kissed at Bucky, missing his mouth again, sloppy once more. “I missed you.”

“I guess I missed you too,” Bucky said, grinning when Steve made an indignant noise against his mouth. He placed one hand, deliberate, on Steve’s hip, his thumb at the crease where his thigh met his body; the other hand, the metal one, he snuck up Steve’s t-shirt, fingertips finding the valley of his spine between the muscles of his back. That was one of his favorite places on Steve’s body, the arch of his lower back, the way sweat sometimes pooled there, the way his shudders always seemed to start there.

Exhaling a low sigh, Steve pressed closer, spreading his knees as wide as his jeans allowed and tilting his head, letting Bucky slip his tongue into his mouth. In the dim quiet of their apartment, they kissed for long minutes, Steve’s skin still hotter than a furnace, Bucky lost in the low pitch of his moans.

Eventually, Bucky pulled back, taking a second to admire Steve’s glazed expression, his kiss-bruised lips, before nuzzling into his ear, letting his stubble scratch at the thin skin of Steve’s throat. Steve gasped a little, tucking his face into Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky nibbled at him.

He hummed into Bucky’s skin, shivered a little as his metal hand slipped up under his shirt to rub, gentle, at a nipple. With his other hand Bucky pulled aside Steve’s collar, inspecting his skin for glitter before pressing his mouth to a clean spot. “Where’d all this glitter come from, baby?” he asked, his voice soft. When Steve didn’t answer, he turned his head, nudging his nose against Steve’s jaw. “Steve? Sugar, where’d you get all this glitter?”

“Hm?” Steve picked up his head, sat back so he could blink at Bucky. “What?”

“I was asking about the glitter,” Bucky said. Steve blinked. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

It was hard to tell in the low light of the lamp, but for a second Bucky thought Steve might have gone a little more pink. “Nat said the glitter would make everything more fun.”

“Did it?” Bucky asked, looking up at Steve. He looked beautiful, here, looking down at Bucky in the yellow light, his eyelashes casting long shadows over his cheeks, glitter sparkling every time his pulse beat in his throat. His lips were red and wet, parted as he breathed. Bucky reached up and traced a finger over the line of freckles that trailed down his neck and under his collar.

 Steve bit his lip, eyelashes fluttering for a second before he seemed to collect his thoughts. “I…I liked looking shiny,” he said. He licked his lips. “Do you like it?”

“I like you any old way.” Bucky could admit it most days, and sometimes in public, but it was extra easy tonight, in the quiet of their home, the night silent and close around them. “But yeah, I like it. All golden like this.”

Smiling, Steve tilted his head a little, exposing the column of his throat to the lamplight. His skin sparkled—and so did his eyes, half-lidded, flirtatious on Bucky. Then his smile faded and he squinted a little, leaning close again and using one hand to tip Bucky’s head sideways.

“Bucky.”

“What is it, my shiny baby?” Bucky asked. It wasn’t going to work, and he knew it. Even drunk, Steve knew when Bucky was running his mouth to distract him. Normally he let it happen, but he could always be a dog with a bone when he felt like it.

Steve was so close his nose brushed Bucky’s, but he didn’t kiss him, didn’t even seem interested anymore. “Your face,” he said.

“You missed it, huh? I know, I missed yours, too.”

“ _Bucky_.” Steve’s eyes narrowed and he turned Bucky’s head again, less gently, so that the left side of his face was bathed in the lamplight. “ _Your face_ , Bucky.”

Bucky grimaced. He’d hoped to keep Steve distracted from really seeing his face tonight. By morning the bruising will all be gone, and if all had gone according to plan, Steve would never have known it had existed at all. He sighed and rubbed his fingers over the curve of Steve’s hipbone, just feeling the warm skin there. “Some asshole clubbed me with his rifle,” he admitted. “He got the drop on me, and I—it’s getting better, Steve, already.”

Steve glared at him, his hands tight on Bucky’s jaw. “You should have said something,” he muttered.

Shaking off Steve’s hands, Bucky pitched forward a little, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder and sighing. “I just wanted to spend a nice night with you,” he said, muffled by Steve’s body. “And I didn’t want to talk about work or missions or pain or anything.” There were days when Bucky thought he’d never be able to stop being Captain America, when he’d never be able to mark enough good karma in his books to balance out the bad. It was most days, if he was honest, maybe even always. But sometimes he just wanted to exist, no strings attached, no shield, no ledger to clear. He could admit that to himself, easily; but it was harder to let Steve suggest the same thing—which he did, constantly, especially when Bucky got hurt.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Judgment in the eyes of Steve Rogers was not judgment that anyone else accepted. But the judgment of Captain America, the judgment that Bucky was good enough, or healed enough, or repentant enough to pick up that shield...people seemed to like that better.

He would never be able to put it down.

And to top it off, he  _had_  really wanted just to spend time with Steve tonight. He hadn’t wanted Steve’s righteous anger and he especially hadn’t wanted to wallow in self-pity, which was rapidly where things were heading.

Steve’s arms were tight around his neck, his fingers tangled—really tangled, Bucky could feel the knots every time he moved—in the hair at the base of Bucky’s skull. He was quiet, fingertips rubbing gentle circles at his scalp. “Can you just,” Bucky said into the space between them, his forehead still resting against Steve’s shoulder, “can we just. Go back to the kissing. Just for tonight.”

Steve lifted his shoulder, making Bucky pick his head up, and gave him a kiss, just one, before looking him in the eyes. “Okay, Buck,” he said, quieter than they had been talking, so quiet that even in their silent apartment Bucky wasn’t sure he’d said anything at all. “Okay. For tonight.” He kissed him again, and Bucky wrapped both arms around his waist, squeezed a little, knowing Steve would read his thanks in the motion. “But  _just_  for tonight.”

“Sure, baby,” Bucky replied, “anything you want, if you remember in the morning.”

“I’ll remember,” Steve insisted, tipping his head obligingly when Bucky placed a kiss under his jaw.

“I know you will.” Bucky pressed his hands to the smallest part of Steve’s waist, fingers spanning his back. He didn’t know what it was about this spot that always made Steve shiver, always made him go to jelly in Bucky’s lap, but it did, and he exploited it shamelessly now, his thumbs rubbing to the left and right of Steve’s belly button.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Steve’s whole body rolled; Bucky opened his eyes just in time to catch the way it made his glitter catch the light, how it made the column of his neck look like real fucking artwork. God, Bucky wanted nothing more right now than this.

But what else was new?

Bucky pulled at Steve’s shirt, desperate, suddenly. Between them they managed to get his shirt off, and Steve sat back, his hair a mess, glitter all over his chest and on his jeans. Bucky couldn’t help smiling up at him, golden and sparkling and very, very drunk.

“What?” Steve asked, laughing a little, running his fingers up the inside of Bucky’s forearms. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not.” Bucky traced a hand over the arc of Steve’s hipbone. “Just looking at you. At how curvy you are, my shiny beauty.”

Steve blushed, smiling, preening under the praise. “You’re no slouch yourself,” he murmured, flattening his palm against Bucky’s chest and running his hand down, over his chest and then back up his neck, his fingers tracing the tendon that ran from his collarbone to just behind his ear.

“We’re a pair, huh,” Bucky agreed. Slipping his hands along Steve’s hips and up, he rubbed at his nipples just long enough for Steve to sigh and shudder before continuing up, cupping his head in both hands and pulling him in for another kiss.

Exhaling hot across Bucky’s lips, Steve pressed hard against him, grabby. His body was so hot; Bucky could feel the heat of him through his jeans and the sheet and Bucky's sweats. Oh, Bucky wanted him, like always, wanted him and wanted him and wanted him. He got an arm around Steve's waist and twisted, pulling him down onto the bed and sitting up, forward, until he was kneeling over him, between his legs.

Mouth open, Steve blinked up at him, his hands lying relaxed next to his head. He was breathing hard, his blue eyes dark, and when Bucky pressed a hand to his crotch he wasn't surprised to find him hard. Steve always did like being thrown around a little.

"Bucky," he said, soft, as Bucky leaned over him. He put a hand on Bucky's forearm, just below his elbow, pulling gently. His other hand stayed where it was, next to his ear.

"You're going to make me do all the work, aren't you?" Bucky asked. Steve grinned as he leaned down; he was still grinning when Bucky kissed him, open-mouthed, tracing his tongue along the ridges of Steve's teeth. Steve sighed into his mouth and wrapped an arm and both legs around him, pulling him down, trapping his hand between them.

Squirming, pressing up into him, Steve panted into Bucky’s mouth. “ _God_ ,” he breathed, “Bucky, please—I, _fuck_.”

“Yeah, honey, I know,” Bucky murmured, rocking down against him. He was feeling it, too, how demanding Steve was being, how desperate. _Honey_. It was a good word for Steve, especially Steve when he was drunk: golden and slow, sweet.

He sat up, Steve’s legs still around him, to pull off his shirt. Steve watched, eyes half-lidded, reaching out and rubbing a hand over Bucky’s stomach. “Do you _ever_ wear pants anymore?” he asked, snapping the elastic of Bucky’s boxer briefs and running his fingers, so gentle, over the fabric tented over his dick. His arm, extended all the way to Bucky, between his legs, made his pecs press together.

God, he was sparkly.

Bucky leaned over him again to grope at his chest. “All my pants are too tight,” he said, not really listening to himself as he played with Steve’s tits. “Anyway, ain’t this easier?”

“Bucky, you buy your own pants,” Steve reminded him, his laugh turning into a lusty sigh as Bucky leaned down and pressed his mouth to his nipple. “You—ah—you could just buy looser ones.”

 For a second, Bucky sits up again. “But I like how you look at my ass when I wear the tight ones.”

Steve started laughing again, slinging both arms around Bucky’s neck. “I’d look more if you wore them more,” he pointed out.

“You can’t tell me you’d rather see me clothed,” Bucky laughed, starting to pull at the button of Steve’s jeans. “You always want it so bad, baby. I’m just being considerate.”

Steve took a breath in, looking at Bucky, and the moment stretched. It was incredible, Bucky thought, how happy he looked, lying here under him, trusting him, wanting him. He turned his head into Steve’s palm, kissing it as Steve stroked his thumb over Bucky’s eyebrow. “You’re right,” Steve said, plain as anything, “I always want you, Bucky.”

Stated plainly like that, Bucky could barely breathe with it. He kissed Steve again, hard, pulling more insistently at his jeans. He got them unbuttoned, unzipped, and Steve arched up against him, letting Bucky shove at the fabric until it was bunched around his thighs.

For a second Bucky thought about keeping at it, getting Steve all the way naked, but with Steve all grabby and sweet he got impatient. Steve’s hand still in his hair, he leaned down, got his cock all the way into his throat.

“Hah- _ah_ —Bucky— _fuck_ ,” Steve gasped, clutching at his head, hips jerking so hard he nearly threw Bucky off, nearly choked him.  He gripped Bucky’s hair in one hand—Bucky moaned a little, thought about squeezing his own dick and decided he didn’t want to let go of Steve—his other gathering a handful of the sheet and pulling at it.

Bucky looked up at him. Steve’s head was thrown back, his chest heaving—Bucky reached up with one hand to tug at one of his nipples; he twitched, letting go of the sheet and grabbing Bucky’s wrist, keeping his hand there. As Bucky bobbed his head a little, Steve hooked one heel over Bucky’s back, his other leg falling open. “God— _Bucky_ ,” he panted.

Pulling back, Bucky rubbed at Steve’s nipple, slow, gentle. “Pass me the lube,” he said. Steve blinked at him for a second, so pretty, before seeming to figure out what Bucky was telling him.

Finally he wiggled a little, letting go of Bucky’s hair to reach across to the bedside table and pull open the drawer. The motion made his dick shift in front of Bucky’s face, so he did the obvious thing and licked the tip of it. It made Steve’s belly clench and he knocked Bucky’s book off the table, and he turned back and bit his lip in Bucky’s general direction. Distracted by Bucky’s tongue was a good look on him.

He sat up and shuffled backward, yanking Steve’s pants off and tossing them over his shoulder onto the floor. When he was sure Steve had the lube, he pulled on him too, dragging him down the bed a little more. “I,” Steve mumbled, then reached up and pulled at Bucky, breathless.

Bucky went, pressing himself all against Steve’s front and settling their hips into a slow grind. God, he was on fire, Steve so easy beneath him, making so many sweet incoherent noises, his skin so warm. Bucky grabbed at him, at his ass, his waist, his strong thighs, losing himself in the movement, Steve’s quick breath on his skin, his breathy moans in his ear.

“Bucky,” Steve mumbled into his ear, “Bucky—remember how I said I always want you?”

“Baby, I’m never going to forget it,” Bucky replied. He was breathing heavy, too, getting worked up by how tight Steve was holding onto him.

Steve gasped, his heel pressing against the back of Bucky’s thigh. “Yeah, well—would you _get on with it_ then.”

Laughing, Bucky sat up, digging around under the sheet until he found the lube. “How d’you want it, sugar?” he asked, popping open the cap and spilling a dollop into his hand. Steve seemed transfixed by his fingers, rubbing through the slick. “You want it face down, ass up? Or you want to sit on it, show off for me a little?” Steve made a wounded sound at Bucky’s words, tipping his hips up as Bucky slipped his hand down into the vee of his thighs. He rubbed obligingly at Steve’s asshole, giving him what he wanted, pressing. “Or you want me to hold you down, give it to you real good and hard?”

Steve dragged his lower lip between his teeth. Bucky wanted his tongue in Steve’s mouth, so he went for it, leaned down and kissed him lush, pressing one finger into him at the same time. “Oh— _oh_ ,” Steve breathed into him, getting one arm around Bucky’s neck, leverage so he could arch against him, his other hand clawing desperately at the waistband of Bucky’s underwear.

“You like that?” Bucky asked, pushing, circling. Steve responded with a groan, head tipping back, baring his throat. “You didn’t tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I,” Steve panted, shifting, trying to ride Bucky’s fingers. “God—Bucky, I—fuck, I—” Bucky watched as his eyes slipped open and he struggled to focus. “I want to ride it.”

 Bucky groaned. It wasn’t as if this was a surprise, but hearing it out of Steve’s mouth still got his dick wet. “Yeah, baby, okay,” he murmured, mostly garbled because his tongue was between Steve’s teeth.

Sitting up, Bucky finally— _finally_ —shucked his boxer briefs, using the elastic to slingshot them across the room before sitting back against the headboard, the way he’d been when Steve had come in. “Come here, my sweet sparkling love,” he said, taking Steve’s hands and hauling him upright. Steve, grinning, climbed onto him, leaning in to kiss him before turning to dig for the lube in the sheets again.

Bucky watched as he couldn’t find it, scrabbling around in the fabric, and grabbed his fill while Steve did: groping his ass with one hand and his chest with the other, watching as he glittered above him like some kind of shiny naked angel.

Steve hummed as he found the lube, holding it up like a prize and leaning in to plant a sloppy kiss on Bucky’s face, hard more because most of his unbalanced weight was behind it than because he was trying. They kissed for a long moment, Bucky still grabbing at Steve, hissing when Steve wrapped his lubed hand around his dick. “Oh, _oh_ , baby,” Bucky gasped—and then, “oh, _fuck_ ,” when Steve lined himself up, holding onto the headboard behind Bucky, and began to press down onto him.

Draping himself over Bucky, Steve mumbled incoherently as he sank down, his eyes barely open, his whisky breath hot all over Bucky’s face. It didn’t smell great, but Bucky didn’t care, couldn’t care right now, watching as Steve rolled his hips, taking what he wanted.

Steve scraped his short nails over Bucky’s chest, sitting back and flattening his palms over Bucky’s stomach as he picked up a rhythm. Propping a hand behind his head, Bucky watched him move, watched the glitter on his throat pick up the lamplight and turn him fiery and golden, lost in pleasure.

It made Bucky possessive, seeing him like this. Nobody else got to; all of this, these miles of pale skin and freckles, Steve made breathless and speechless, was Bucky’s alone. He reached for him, rubbed his fingertips over the peaked bud of one nipple, not hard, just gentle, and Steve moaned on an exhale.

Shit, but Bucky was closer than he’d thought.

“Come on, baby,” he mumbled, wrapping one hand around Steve’s cock, wet, getting wetter with every word. “Come on, take it. I want to see it.” With his other hand he reached around, squeezed his ass, made him move faster.

“Oh,” Steve said, and, “oh, _oh_ —” He clawed at Bucky’s skin, hips jerking back onto Bucky’s dick and forward into his hand as he came, sudden, gasping. He shuddered, barely letting himself come down before opening his eyes.

Under his gaze, Bucky went hot all over. He’d been fine, just a second ago, holding it off, but with Steve staring at him like that it was rushing up at him, collecting in his spine.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed—“come on, Bucky, I want it in me.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? Sweating, grabbing at Steve, Bucky went off, pressing up into Steve as much as he could with his weight on him. Sweet, Steve moaned, leaning down and whispering hot into Bucky’s ear.

Finally Bucky realized he was holding so tight to Steve’s hips it must be hurting him. Unsticking his hands, he grimaced; Steve now had a matching pair of purpling bruises growing on his hipbones. He traced them with one finger, trying to remember what words would combine into an apology. Steve picked up his head from Bucky’s shoulder, his waist dipping to one side as he turned his head to see what Bucky was doing.

He hummed, a shiver chasing down his spine and making Bucky twitch. “Sorry, sugar,” Bucky said, “I got carried away.”

“I like it,” Steve replied, sighing low into Bucky’s skin when he ran his hand up over his side.

“You still drunk?”

He could feel Steve’s grin in his neck. “A little. S’nice.”

For a few minutes, they just lay there, Bucky running his hands all over Steve. Eventually, though, Steve sat up. “I should shower,” he said, though he made no effort whatsoever to get off Bucky’s lap. “I’m—” Looking down at Bucky, he started to laugh.

“What?” Bucky asked, sitting up too, catching Steve around the waist and biting at his ear. “Why’re you laughing at me, baby? After I treated you so nice?”

 Steve kissed him, hard, lusty. “It’s my fault,” he murmured, smiling against Bucky’s lips. “I got you all covered in glitter.”

Bucky sat back a little to look down between them. Steve was right; there was glitter _everywhere_. “It’s okay,” he said, leaning up to kiss Steve again. “If this is the price to get you rubbing yourself all over me, I’ll survive it.”

Still laughing, Steve wrapped himself around Bucky again, giving a little moan when Bucky rubbed a fingertip over his hole. “I like you this way,” he murmured into Bucky’s mouth, “all lit up like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> [come visit me on the tungles](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [reblog the fic post plz thx <3](https://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com/post/169162893407/all-lit-up-rooonilwaazlib-captain-america)


End file.
